


Ashes of an Empire

by Sintagon



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29788521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintagon/pseuds/Sintagon
Summary: Twins Avadd and Behel Behermo have survived the long war with the Eternal Empire.  This did not come without a cost.  Losing their master early in the conflict, they searched for him for five long years.  Yet, finally at the end of the war, the tracking beacon of his flagship comes alive.  Accompanied by the Ashen Beasts of the Red Dawn, the twin Sith go to find Darth Set and the rest of the Red Dawn.Whether or not this trip is a happy reunion should be quite obvious by the nature of the Sith.





	1. Red Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if the first three chapters are lower quality. They're about a year old.

It was as if the lessons of the past meant nothing to the Sith. The moment the news spread that the Zakuul Crisis had ended, the Sith seemed to forget that they nearly faced extinction to the Eternal Empire. That they faced their very doom, something they could have avoided if they had spent less time infighting, and spent more time preparing. Growing powerful. For the Sith, both the Light and Dark sides of the Force were meant to be dominated and applied, to conquer and to see great victory. A single Sith was greater than three Jedi of his same rank, and the Sith code could be so easily applied to so many. What slave did not wish to find freedom? What warrior did not wish for victory? What politician, what farmer, what person did not want power? The answer wasn’t shocking, as that is why the Darkside was so persuasive, so pervasive. It was the path to power that no rational soul would deny, without the Jedi. Emotionless guardians, they managed to always beat the Sith in the end. No matter how much the Sith burned their worlds, destroyed billions of lives, the Jedi ended up on top. Unlike the Sith, there were no needs for the Jedi to hide for a thousand years, to fight so desperately to survive. It was not because the Sith were weak, or stupid. It was not because the Empire couldn’t follow the Sith to victory. It was because the Sith warred among each other as much as they faced their ancient enemy.

The Republic will always win, until the day the Sith find unity. And that day, a pair of Sith feared, may never come in time. Zakuul was defeated, but already they found themselves amidst a power struggle. The Sith were Purebloods, the race of red-skinned conquerors that the Sith Lords drew their name from. They were Avadd and Behel Behermo, twins from the planet Ziost. A planet destroyed by Sith ambition, once a jewel of civilization and progress for the Sith Empire. Scorned enough by Sith Ambition, the two were rather infamous for turning away the deceptions and schemes of their fellow darksiders, choosing battle and honor above all. They embraced freedom, passion, victory, and power. It was almost enviable, but they still were bound by both duty and the chains of the past. Though neither were Lords, neither were apprentice either. Simply Sith Warriors, they had progressed quite far, until the day they received a message from their old master. Darth Set, a violent and cunning Lord, held quite a bit of sway over his apprentices even after they left his thrall. They respected their master for his power, for his beliefs. He gave them the gift of fire and the knowledge of Chaos, thus turning them into equally cunning and dangerous warriors. And so, the Twins departed Dromund Kaas, to a world on the edge of Sith Space. A world known as Amun, a simple world. 

“A call for help. I still don’t know what the old man would need our help for, especially out here.” Behel’s voice poked above the howling winds as their shuttle flew above Amun’s lands, eyeing the relatively verdant forestland. His growling voice carried on, “You think Darth Set might’ve crashed out here, and avoided sending signals so the Eternal Fleet didn’t find him? It doesn’t inspire much trust in me, but we owe it to him to at least look.”

His voice was the only comfort Avadd could find as she studied the canopy below them, “Now’s the time to send signals.” She rubbed the tendrils on her chin, “After all, we all could sense the end of the crisis.”

“Fair point, sister. HEY, PILOT. HOW CLOSE ARE WE TO THE SIGNAL?” Behel banged on the door, spooking a few helmeted imperials. 

The pilot’s voice was hard to make out, but Avadd could hear enough from her end of the shuttle to get the gist that they were close. All of the men were unnerved, even she was. The only person who was confident seemed to be her brother, who sat in the front of the shuttle, impatiently tapping his foot against the sheet metal beneath him. Clad in fine black Mandalorian war-gear and in a vibrant crimson cloak, her brother was not so similar in style to many Sith in his peerage. His red eyes flashed back and forth between the men and forest, never once did he look to see how she was doing. He could trust that his twin was fine, or at least fine enough to see this mission through. They shared enough obvious similarities to mark themselves as twins, but Avadd’s eyes were a bright yellow, and she was much bigger than her brother. Behel was as much a sorcerer as a warrior, while Avadd was a warrior and a juggernaut. Their skills were complementary, where Behel brought down the defenses of their foes and weakened them, Avadd kept them still and beat them down. He burned the land, and she cut down all that remained.

The men with them were men both inspired by Set’s legacy or men that Set once employed, before his flagship was destroyed in this sector of Sith space. The Ashen Beasts, they were known as, were an elite fireteam that Set used to greater effect during the Cold War, the Second Galactic War, and even during the early days of the Zakuul invasion. Their armor is grey and black, as Set was the flame that allowed his beasts to thrive. Through the ashes of his fire, rose the destructive force that was his personal army. The two of them, and Set’s other apprentices or subservient Lords, were the finale of his force. They were the Red Dawn, as the ash and smoke choke the sky, making a bloody sun rise over a scarred sky. They were the dominance that he sought, the red blades who would bring victory against the foes he faced.

Once his army was made up of hundreds. Now it was ten. Two warriors, seven soldiers, and one doctor. Hopefully, Set had more than that. And hopefully, Set was there. The shuttle remained fairly quiet, considering the wind that blew through the compartment, as they flew to the distress signal. The landscape began to change, the further they flew over Amun’s surface. The forestland still permeated most of the land, but the rest had been burnt by war and fallen ships. It was a surprise to see so many downed vessels of the Eternal Fleet, as the Fleet rarely suffered losses in the early days of the Zakuul invasion. Very few Imperial vessels were found with the corpses of the Eternal Fleet, mostly fightercraft and smaller frigates.

“Strange.” One of the soldiers said to his friend, sat near him. He pointed to a Eternal Fleet starship, “This place must’ve been one of the earlier battles of the war against Zakuul, but I’m counting at least three or four downed destroyers.”

“And I see a dozen of our own ships.” The other sighed, “They suffered a lot of losses to take down a couple of droids.” 

The soldier shook his head, “Uh, what do you think, Avadd?”

Unlike her brother, Avadd’s outfit was not as clean nor as fine. It was scorched, tattered, and worn. It stuck close to her, showing most of the definition on her upper body. The strength of a warrior of her size was not to be underestimated, as her height and musculature was emphasized by the armor she wore. It was not so much armor, as it was a statement. She was her armor, and she was a weapon. She had little need for plate or hardened materials, for she had her body and the Force. Looking down to the helmet in her hands, she thought for a second what she did think about this. A warrior of the Sith rarely questioned why they fought, for it was known that a Sith’s life was a battle. Retreat was rarely ever an option, as victory was in the Sith code. Defy the Code, defy your very existence.

But it didn’t feel good to die for so little. She looked to the soldier, “I don’t try to think about it.” The warrior lifted the Mandalorian helmet over her head, “A warrior doesn’t look for things to hold them down.”

The shuttle began to slow down as the trooper stood, nodding. He laughed slightly, “Fair enough, ma’am. Just wanted to see a Sith’s perspective on things. Some days, I think it’s because of the Sith we’re able to keep fighting, because some of these threats…” The shuttle stopped, hovering at the edge of the forest. Verdant green broke away into tragic grays and blacks, a blast crater filling where once so much life existed. Amun as a world was rich in Darkside energy, so the pit struck Avadd enough to get her to stand and look at why the shuttle had stopped mid-air. The bold warrior rose, treading to the edge of the shuttle. She grabbed onto a railing and hung somewhat out of the shuttle, looking to what had caused this explosion. The ruins of a Harrower Class Dreadnought lie scattered across the field, where the forestland once stood. The flames and sheer weight of the starships fall blew away any of the foliage, leaving a charred landing zone.

“Behel.” Avadd looked over to her brother, who was busy putting his own Mandalorian helmet on.

“It’s the Ziost Flame.” Behel confirmed, much to Avadd’s dismay, “Bad crash. I don’t know if anything could survive this.” The shuttle began to lower, flying closer to the ground in an approach to the main section of the vessel. It was clear what blew the Harrower out of orbit, several scars of high-energy fire was obvious across many sections of the dreadnought. The shield generator, the engineering compartment, multiple hangers, and the ship’s engines were blown apart. What still was intact was the ship’s general structure, albeit in chunks since the super structure itself was ripped apart, as well as the signature symbol that made it clear that it was the flagship of Darth Set. The sigil of Set’s Red Dawn was emblazoned on the only remaining prong of the Harrower, a symbol of the Sith Empire set in the heart of a red star. The other prong was in pieces, showing that the ship listed to the side and ran into the ground from that angle.

Avadd took her unlit saber in hand, “Brother. I should take a team into the ship. You fine with staying back?”

“Though I’d like to go in, my talents are not suited for close quarters combat. If anything’s in there and it’s hostile, you’re a better leader for this. Mind if I keep Doctor Sonov, though?” He looked over to the togruta doctor, who was busy studying a datapad, instead of seeing the commotion. 

“It’d be safer to keep him here, yes.” She lifted her helmet over her mass of unruly hair, “We have enough medpacs to last a prolonged firefight. And if that’s not enough, I can cauterize a wound.” The Sith rolled her shoulders, popping a few joints in the process, “Though I have a feeling if there’s any predators in there, they’ll go running when they see me.”

“Captain Donovan, Sergeants Rathwell and Morgan, Corporal Okk, and Agent Muar'cisin'arco, you’re with me.” Three humans, a Trandoshan, and a Chiss. The humans were all from Dromund Kaas, never lived a day outside of the Sith Empire. Though Morgan and Rathwell did little of note, merely rising through rank through consistent service, Captain Donovan earned his rank with relative prestige. He lead several successful skirmishes on Quesh during the end of the Galactic War before Zakuul’s invasion, including one where he killed two Jedi without assistance. If not for Zakuul and the disappearance of Darth Set, Donovan likely would be a General at this point. Instead, though, he spent his years fighting Zakuul and searching for the lost Sith Lord. The Chiss, Muar'cisin'arco, went by Arcisina to most. She was born in the Chiss Ascendency and chose to keep strong ties, but she was a true Imperial Patriot. Though Avadd found it rather hard to trust agents of the Ministry of Intelligence, Arcisina was a rather helpful presence in the days after Zakuul’s invasion. She was as friendly as Chiss come, and her intelligence and resources made her extremely helpful. And then the Trandoshan. Thanks to the adoption of Malgus’ reformations, aliens outside of the Chiss had started to become more and more common within the Imperial military, but even Okk turned heads. Trandoshans had a bad reputation for being brutish and thoughtless predators. That was mostly due to their religion, a cult that followed the ways of a “Scorekeeper” and focused on getting points. Points came from successful hunts, and there was no more dangerous game than sentients. Luckily, Okk had long thrown off his religion, for he saw little merit in slaughter. The Corporal’s strength and knowledge of the hunt made him a worthy ally.

Doctor Sonov, Private Orgreeve, Commodore Nyx, and Ensign Wirth were the remaining members of the crew. The Doctor and the Commodore were both Togruta liberated from the Hutt Cartel, Orgreeve was a recruit from Onderon, and Wirth was a Weequay who served Malgus’ renegade Empire for the few months it existed. Most of them had been with the original Red Dawn crew, but Orgreeve was new. Maybe Donovan saw something in the boy, but Avadd didn’t think too highly of him. The Sith nodded to her brother, hopping from the shuttle, landing solidly on the ground. Always the first, she was followed soon by her team, each of them landing on their feet. Black imperial boots fell upon the surface of Amun, potentially for the first time, to search their first contact with the world.  
“Fill me in, Captain.” Avadd said, looking to the wreckage ahead, “Why does this world have a name?”

The Captain pulled up a datapad as Avadd began to walk forward, joining her. His accent was weaker than many of his counterparts due to how many years he spent fighting with non-Imperial mercenaries, “ Well, ma’am, it appears it was named by Darth Set during his expedition out here.” He stroked his sleek black beard as he scanned the datapad, “Darth Malgus’ explorations of unknown space lead him until a few systems on the edge of the galaxy, this one was one of the few his people put into the systems to go back to after the infighting died down.”

“And nobody came back, because Malgus was defeated and all of his data was destroyed in the explosion.” The Sith shook her head, “So how did Set learn of it?”

“Seems like Set was quick to chase down Malgus’ people. Wirth was one of ‘em.” The Captain reached the end of the datapad about the system, “But the Darth wanted to find something out here. Maybe he was searching for places to run if the Empire collapsed.”

“The Ra-atum system, huh?” Avadd stopped, looking to the sky, the system’s star beginning to lower. She nodded, “It’s a good contingency. Might’ve been helpful when Zakuul invaded. There’s no maps here, no hyper lanes. Without the signal we had, we’d’ve never been able to get here.” 

“Aye. Shame the Eternal Fleet got here, but maybe it was because they were chasing Set.” The Captain put the datapad away, drawing a blaster pistol, “But we should move in. Day’s growing short, and I’d rather not be out on an unknown world before nightfall. We’re far away from even Dromund Kaas, at this point. Don’t want to find out what things make home in the woods.”

Avadd didn’t respond to that, for she was honestly hoping they’d stay long enough to see what bumps in the night on Amun. Perhaps it was a part of her fighting spirit, perhaps it was just reckless curiosity. Whether or not, they were in uncharted territory, and uncharted territory always hid the greatest foes. Zakuul was in uncharted territory, after all. She sent Okk and Morgan forward, the first to breach the broken starship. Breaking through into unknown territory, even if the ship itself was very familiar to the group. Each of them had served a good amount of time in the Ziost Flame and each of them knew Imperial ships extremely well. Exploring a ruined one just so happened to be rare, especially one that had crashed some time ago. Okk and Morgan broke the door down with some smaller explosive charges, taking point. An all clear was sent fairly quickly, giving Avadd reason to take the rest of the crew in. Donovan placed his helmet on, flicking on his helmet light, “Alright people, lights on.”

The starship likely had been devoid of light for a while, and now Avadd and her people brought a light again. An unlit saber grew bright, as from Avadd’s hand came a vibrant pink light. Though many Sith had derided her for the coloration of her blade, this pink saber had drawn enough of their blood to gain respect. She lifted it up high, illuminating the chamber, to see that they had breached into a hangar bay. Since the ship was buried somewhat into the ground, on its side, the hangar’s mouth was buried in soil. With a swing of her saber, she got the attention of her people.

“Ma’am?” Arcisina spoke up, “Orders?”

“Rathwell and Okk, I want you two to find the armory and search the living quarters of the ship. Morgan and Donovan, head down to the few command centers on the ship. I’ll be taking Arcisina to the bridge and the officer’s deck.” She lowered her saber, “Contact me if you find anything. Remember, we’re trying to find the distress signal, or any sign of survivors.”

“Yes ma’am!” The collective yelled out, breaking off to their assignments. They all were so sure that there was nothing alive, nothing possibly left from a crash of such magnitude. It seemed that Avadd was certain they’d find monsters, Donovan hoping they’d avoid the beasts of Amun. But there was a tingle down Chiss operative Arcisina’s neck, something told her there was something off about this mission.


	2. Stirring Embers

The Ziost Flame was a standard Harrower-Class Dreadnought without a standard track record. In the many operations that Darth Set and his Red Dawn set upon, the Harrower had faced countless battles over a relatively short period of time. And it survived each of them, defying all odds. From flying above Corellia in the early days of the renewed galactic war, to bombarding planets in Republic space, to even fighting the False Emperor above Illum. The Flame had flown high and proud, burning an Imperial sigil into each world it struck. To each system, to each man, to each destroyer it burned… an unforgettable name was seared into their histories. And it was all by the decree of the draconian warlord of the Red Dawn, Darth Set. Set’s origins and nature are fairly unknown, an oddity even among Sith. The Empire hated aliens and generally still distrusts them, so for this certain Darth, things must’ve been particularly difficult. The Darth’s species was unknown, as he was some sort of canine-headed humanoid of a rather large height, with multiple other animalistic features. It was hard to tell what the Darth looked like beyond the obvious skull-shape, for he wore a strangely designed helmet. Of a unique species of unknown origin, of a culture completely unknown to Imperial customs, and from a section of space never explored… Set was an extreme oddity. Considering he managed to reach his position and earn so much prestige within the Empire, he was something to be feared.

So seeing the scorched remains of his flagship, his chariot of war, on an uncharted world… It hurt. Avadd felt that it clouded many of the operative’s minds, their focus waning just slightly due to the grief they felt at the sight of the possible grave of their honored master. To Set’s apprentices, pain granted focus. Life without harnessed pain is a life unlived, as pain was possibly the greatest motivator in the galaxy. Sure rage and love drove thousands to bring war over the unending history of the galaxy, but the center of all of these conflicts was the desire to cause or to cease pain. And the Behermo twins, they were the most focused of all. The two were cynical of the Sith, skeptical of the Empire. They had been hurt so deeply by the Sith that they could never trust any Sith, even each other. Born of Ziost, raised of Ziost, prided by Ziost. The Jewel of the Empire had been their home. That home was no more. The Sith Emperor was allowed to become the greatest monster in galactic history by his Empire, and the Empire had lost everything to that. So many worlds, so many lives… And another entire Empire. All lead to ruin by Sith ambition.

The Flame was set on its side, buried in the soil of Amun. To explore the ship, everyone needed to be very careful. The ship had held up so far, but will their tampering finally bring it to collapse? Avadd knew she wouldn’t die to a ship’s destruction, but the others? They were without the same power she held. Where she would be able to feed on her suffering for potential years, they would be dead within the week. Indeed, such an experience would likely make her into a stronger warrior, but it would be the grave of her allies. There was no future in leaving the people who support you to die, even if your personal abilities improve. So she watched the others scale the hangar’s floor, attempting to reach the doors to the rest of the vessel. She and the lizard were to be the last to climb, for they were the heaviest of the company. At least the other five would be in place if Avadd and Okk proved too heavy for the vessel’s compromised superstructure. Okk hissed through his teeth, “Not like. Atmosphere heavy.”  
“The air is heavy, but mostly with emotion. This world is powerful in the Darkside, Corporal.” She followed Arcisina’s movements, seeing that the Chiss was nearly at the top.

Okk’s big orange eyes narrowed, “Like Kaas. But different.”

“All of us are familiar with the shadows of Dromund Kaas.” Avadd suddenly felt somewhat insecure, looking back, seeing the deep shadows that already had been cast behind them, “But this world is new to us. Hopefully, the feeling won’t be alien for too long.”

“Eyes are on back.” The corporal was on edge, his species’ natural predatory instincts driving him into somewhat of a heightened state of awareness, “Like shadows are watching…” He paused, drawing a small blaster rifle and a vibrosword, “Suggestion.”

“Since you can’t climb with all that in your hands, you’re asking to stay behind. To watch the entrance.” Avadd didn’t speculate for long, seeing that the intent in the trandoshan’s body and aura, “So be it. Perhaps this is for the better. One heavy body climbing is better than two.”

“Fingers not meant for climbing small Imp grapple line.” The Trandoshan flexed his three fingers around his blade, a sharp and raspy laugh leaving him, “Better if I stay.”

Avadd did not respond to that, for she had nothing to say. Small-talk was not her specialty and anyways, there was a mission to complete. The floor had been scaled, the line now lowered for her. It was unfortunate that so much time had to be spent waiting, as the incline would have been easily scaled if it were made of any other material. But it was a slick Imperial floor. The ground was so well polished, that even after years of sitting unmaintained and in ruin, that it remained too smooth to climb. The rest of the ship would be easy enough, for the hallways and most of the command rooms were filled with enough panels and machinery that they should be scaled with little effort. She gripped the line tightly, pulling herself up with mostly her upper body strength. Her feet were little more than anchors, for using them to climb would only cause her to slip. Unlike the soldiers, Avadd’s boots were worn, their traction little help these days. Perhaps it was time for her to find new gear.

It was not a hard climb, but it still gave her a nice warmup. The Sith’s muscles were finely tuned for combat and high-exertion activities, this being no different. Pulling her weight upwards was not a simple task, after all. After a handful of minutes, she joined the rest at the top of the hangar bay. And considering that Donovan, Morgan, and Rathwell all left by the moment she made it to the top, she figured that they had heard her conversation with Okk. This left her with the Chiss, who’s crimson eyes had already scanned the location of their next objective. The bridge. Arcisina walked the hangar wall, looking up to the door they needed to reach. Hesitantly, she waited for Avadd, who looked down to check on Corporal Okk. The Trandoshan had lit a few makeshift torches, giving him some light. He paced the bottom, stepping over destroyed starfighters and bodies, checking on the contents within them. The Chiss cleared her throat to get Avadd’s attention, “Ma’am, the door is open above. Strange, right?”

“Not entirely. The Eternal Fleet cripples starships with Skytrooper pods, remember?” She clicked her saber to her belt, walking over to the wall that lead to the opened door, “The Fleet bombards the vessel from the outside while their droids break the ship from the inside. So, someone probably ran through those doors the moment power cut off. Seeing that it’s halfway open, I think that’s the case.”

“I apologize for not being aware. The Ascendancy did not fight Zakuul like the Empire and Republic did.” The agent reached out, gripping a pipe that stretched the wall, “What should we expect, then?”

“It’s possible that the Skytroopers are still active. I don’t know how long the droids are able to last on minimal power.” She began to climb, same as Arcisina, “But, they won’t be any trouble now. Without a central core and with such low power, they’re probably as much of a pushover as a protocol droid.”

“So you say, ma’am.” The next few moments were spent in relative silence, the pair climbing to the top of the wall. Avadd didn’t like the prospect of seeing more Zakuulan droids in the wreckage of an Imperial vessel, a sight she had gotten all too used to in the years prior. Her pride as a Sith and Imperial was already damaged by the events on Ziost and the foolishness of the Sith during the years before the fall of Zakuul, so this sight would do her little good these days. Attempting to rebuild broken pride is a hard thing to do when the things that made you proud are either dead, missing, or share the same doubts as you. Already she attempted to put the bodies Okk was picking through to the back of her mind, but she knew very well that those men died with the pride of their Empire still intact. Set went missing before Zakuul effortlessly crushed the Republic and Empire, so his ship going down in a blaze of glory still likely seemed glorious to the warriors who fell. They didn’t know that the Eternal Fleet was a bunch of mindless machines, ruled over by children. They couldn’t have known, so maybe they went down proud, thinking they blew other strong warriors out of the skies. Not some toys of humans playing god…

The silence was music to Avadd. Though she was used to the hustle and bustle of Kaas City or her homeworld, there were times where voices were unwelcome. Observant, Arcisina was acutely aware what she was feeling, the Chiss keeping silent as they pulled themselves through the partially agape door, exploring the halls leading to the bridge. Curiously enough, there were fewer corpses than Avadd expected. The Ziost Flame had a crew of thousands, with a troop capacity of even more. Though the elite of Darth Set was much smaller in scale, he was not foolish enough to deny the power of numbers the Army and Navy often provided. There were hundreds dead, but the numbers didn’t seem to be high enough. The lack of Imperial droids was also interesting, though not entirely shocking. There was little trust for droids in Set’s heart, for the Sith Lord always believed that he could get better results from ten men than a thousand droids. That and Set could sense whether or not someone had betrayed him. A machine’s heart never betrayed what it was programmed to do.  
Avadd didn’t hold as many strong feelings for machines as her master did, but she preferred the company of organics, nonetheless. The only droids to be found in her or Set’s company were often simple machines, like astromechs or protocol droids. Maintenance or service guided droids were much cheaper than battle droids, and much easier to deal with if something goes awry. As they passed by a clearly gutted medical lab, Avadd began to wonder if there was actually something else out on Amun, or within the Ra-Atum system. Pirates weren’t too far fetched of an idea, as they were relatively known for squatting in unexplored territory to escape the eye of the law. The possibility that it was some unknown space-faring people wasn’t too hard to believe, as well. With the idea that an entire galaxy conquering Empire hid in the same galaxy the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic lived in made the idea of smaller enclaves and planets just, completely reasonable. But on Amun? It didn’t feel right. Worlds so strong in force energy rarely flew under the radar, with nothing happening on them. Even Odessen, a world in the hard to explore Unknown Regions, had a sizable impact on the galactic stage.

Arcisina poked through the remains of an officer’s body, searching for something. This intrigued Avadd, leading the warrior to join the agent back in the present. The Chiss was analyzing the officer’s clothes and what remained of his body, after years of rotting and being eaten away by carrion, notably looking at his wounds. It seemed she had been studying marks on the walls, doors, and other bodies as well. The Sith knelt down, “I get the impression you’re finding something.”

“The marks on this officer do not add up to typical blaster trauma.” The agent pressed her fingers into the old wound, “Much too long, not carbon scored similarly, and not deep enough.” She looks up, her large pure-red eyes peering into Avadd’s questioning gaze, “I am unfamiliar with Zakuul’s weaponry, but the cause of death here seems to be by Lightsaber.”

“Saberstroke. No Knights could’ve been here… and Skytroopers only use vibroblades.” She clicks her tongue, “Clearly Imperial, too. You’ve been studying the rest of the bodies, as we’ve gone.”

Arcisina nods, “While most of them were killed by blasterfire that’s irregular to standard Imperial firearms, many of them appear to have been brought low by weapons typically used by the Imperial Navy.” She stood away from the body, spraying some disinfectant onto the finger she pushed into the dead officer’s wound, “It’s possible that amidst the battle, there was a mutiny.”

“A mutiny? While none of the Red Dawn would mutiny, it’s possible that some of the officers supplied by the Army were a liability in battle.” Avadd rose to her full height, pointing her saber toward the bridge, “The only Sith aboard this ship by the time of its disappearance was Darth Set. Seeing that he should be occupied with blasting the Eternal Fleet out of the sky, by this point, I can only think of two things that would take him out of the bridge. A mutiny is one of them. The other, though, is something I’m concerned about.”

“What may that be, if you do not mind answering my query?” The Chiss drew a blaster pistol from its holster, looking to where Avadd was pointing her saber.

“That the Ziost Flame crashed here for a reason.” Avadd grunted, lowered her blade, approaching the entryway to the bridge. Her partner was not too far behind her, analyzing each doorway they passed, both hands gripped around her pistol. There was light pouring from a slight crack in the bridge’s doorway, as these doors remained shut after the power died on the Flame. It was no surprise to Avadd that the vessel’s bridge was in such a state that so much light could stream through its entry doors, for Zakuul probably finished the ship by firing a concentrated volley into it. Enough had to be intact, though, for the distress beacon to go through. Even if the beacon came from the lower command rooms, without the bridge’s signal array, the beacon would only make it so far. The gap was not wide enough to easily see through, so Avadd wondered if she should cut the door open.

Arcisina poked around the door as much as she could, considering the angle they were at, seeking any possible mechanism that might get a powered down door open. She even began tugging at wires that were empty of energy, seeing if any of the tech she had could put enough juice in to get the doors open wide enough to get through. She was a clever one, this Arcisina, but there was a limit to what intellect got you. For Avadd, the door was no puzzle. It was simply another obstacle. She drew back, tensing her muscles, bringing her arms close to her chest. The worn red material around her arms began to tear as more energy filled them, as the Sith began to pull at the power of the Force. Like a pistol, she shot her arms forward with extreme speed, blasting an incredible amount of raw force energy forward. While it would not be a weapon good enough to throw most trained force-users, it was well-enough to crumple metal and men.

That was adequate, the door blown away with ease. The Chiss looked up, startled for a moment, returning to the familiar stoicism of her people. She nodded, “I forget that the Sith can do that.” She brushed a loose strand of blue hair out of her face, “We do not have such powers in the Ascendancy, after all.”

“Always confused me how you could turn away such power.” Avadd rolled her shoulders, her arms now sore from the power she used, “I have met Sith Chiss, exiled from their homes, never to return.”

“It’s seen as an impurity, since it is rare among our people. Considering that we choose to build our society on the idea that all of us have equal opportunities, such impurities cause disorder within our borders.” Arcisina tilted her head in respect, “No disrespect to you, Lady Behermo. In your Empire, those with your features almost always have some latent power in the Force. To you, it is normal. To us, it is a risk.”

“Thus, your allegiance to the Empire.” Avadd notes, stepping through the opening she made. This was met with silence, but the silence was the only answer she needed. The Chiss were proud, almost seen as arrogant. To Avadd, this was easily understandable. The Warrior was a true pureblooded Sith, a rarity even among those who shared a similar look to her. Her family’s tree was all of the original Sith, refusing to interbreed with humans or other Sith. Perhaps it was to sustain their species, or perhaps it was an experiment, either way… she was a rarity. Her blood was pure Sith, and she had some pride in that. She dressed like the traditional Sith, she did her best to apply herself to their ways, and even knew a great deal of Sith Alchemy due to her studies. While she was no sorcerer like her brother, she chose wisely to study nonetheless. There was pride in not submitting oneself just for the sake of power, or at least not admitting it. The Chiss bowed to the Empire because the Empire made the Chiss strong. Their cooperation benefited the Chiss much more than it did the Empire, and the Imperials knew it. But the Imperials also never turned down an ally, especially one that shared so many similar ideas when it came to essential warfare.

So the silence was one of respect to the land, to the heritage, that Arcisina came from. They both knew why the alliance existed, even to this day, and there was no need to harm the agent’s pride by speaking on it. Especially not in such an unknown situation. As they walked into the ship, Avadd sensed Arcisina’s unease. Unlike the others, her unease was not born from the bodies of their comrades or the corpse of their ship, it was born from other feelings. Now that she had been made to see the possibilities of a mutiny, and her existing observations on the lack of service droids and Skytroopers, Avadd could understand the reasoning behind the Chiss’ unease. 

At this point, Avadd would be glad to see her Master’s corpse, instead of his masked visage staring back at her. If he was dead, they could at least blame this incident on pirates or technology fizzling out. His life would only draw more questions, and they weren’t questions Avadd would be proud to ask. Nor did she think she could face Set now, realizing that he had hidden from the war against Zakuul until he sensed the end of the battle. The bridge she walked upon was hardly recognizable, scorched metal and destroyed technology lining what remained of the room. The roof had been blown out, the front was entirely missing, and only the back section was somewhat intact. Luckily enough, the back was all she needed. Typically the monitors in the rear of the bridge were used for data-gathering and event logs, as well as distress communications. In these computers would the story of the last hours of the Ziost Flame be told. All they needed to do was find the data uplink, pull the memory chips out, and plug them into Arcisina’s decrypter.

In minutes, they’d know whether or not Darth Set died with honor.


	3. Flame of Blight

“Morgan! Over here!” Captain Donovan’s voice was easy to make out over the eerie silence that blanketed the innards of the Ziost Flame, leading Sergeant Morgan to finally break his search of the dead. Nary a soul was left within the Flame but the search group, even beasts and droids refusing to remain within. From where the Flame crashed, a blighted area of death was all that was left. A lively forest refused to regrow over the wreckage, the cataclysm that struck scorching any hope of life from the area. Morgan half wondered if the reason Avadd and Behel were so on edge was due to the lack of life in the area, if there was some sort of Void in the Force that the twins could make out. Alas, the Sergeant had as much Force sensitivity as a stone, leading the higher mysteries to be lost on the man. Perhaps he’d ask Donovan about it when they had the time, for there was some urgency in the Captain’s voice as he called out for him.

Morgan rounded the corner to see both Donovan and Rathwell preparing their weaponry, Donovan holding out an active holo of Avadd. Something had happened. Morgan drew his own rifle, “What’s the situation?”

“I got a message from Miss Behermo. I’ll break it down for you, since we’re on a tight timeframe. She and the Chiss searched the upper region of the Flame, finding signs of a mutiny among other things. After finding the bridge mostly blown out, they did manage to restart an intact system, pulling the logs of the last few hours of the Flame’s flight against Zakuul. I didn’t understand most of what Avadd said, but I’m getting the gist that some sort of Force phenomena was the cause of the Flame and Eternal Fleet’s crash, as well as the fact that Darth Set communed with some sort of entity during his battle meditation.” Donovan scowled, “The transmission was murky, but Avadd has reasonable suspicion that whatever it was… It pulled Set’s loyalists out of the wreckage into the forest.” The Captain clicked a button on the side of a communication earpiece, a visor folding over his face, “She’s ordered us to get back to the entrance, and prepare to run back to the shuttle and regroup.”

“So why are we getting our arms fired up? Doesn’t sound like the danger’s eminent, yet.” Morgan quirked a jet black brow, the man confused by the urgency of Donovan’s moves.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about the situation, Sergeant. I’m ordering you to prepare your weapons, at least to stun.” He said, configuring his own rifle to kill. That was one of the things about Donovan that got him so high in the ranks, he had an uncanny ability to detect if something was about to go awry. Those feelings usually turned out to be correct, making most of his men deeply trust his intuition. Perhaps it was a latent Force ability, or perhaps the Captain just was smart enough to recognize danger in each scenario he was thrust in. So as Donovan set his rifle to kill, so did Morgan.

Rathwell adjusted the headband he wore, lifting his scattergun up. The man’s accent was more typical of a person born outside of Kaas City, in the wilds of Dromund Kaas, “Aye, the situation seems a bit fishy. Am no thinkin’ this is gon go well.” He rolled his shoulders, his heavier Imperial Wargear rattling with the movement, “A say we gunnae have to load up quick, do ye ken?”

“Right. Faster we move, the quicker we can judge the situation.” Donovan cocked his rifle, “Let’s move, Beasts.” 

Rathwell was in the front, the man’s shields were stronger than Donovan and Morgan’s, for he was meant to be a frontline unit. A scattergun and strong vibroblade made the big trooper a threat to those he ran after, meaning the Beasts usually let him lead. His boot stepped forward, crunching through the bones of a dead officer, only for Rathwell to stop dead in his tracks. The man’s nose twitched, “Mates, in’t that smoke?”

Donovan clicked through his visor’s settings, picking up the infrared spectrum, “I smell smoke, but I don’t see the heat picking up.”

Morgan felt the heat growing in the room, and he wasn’t sure if Donovan’s machine was malfunctioning or if he was just starting to lose his cool. But as he saw a few beads of sweat roll down Rathwell’s neck, he knew something was up, “Cap’n, don’t you think this could be something dealing with that Force Entity that Avadd spoke about?”

“No. It’s something worse.” He cursed, lifting his rifle, “This is one of Darth Set’s tricks. The heat isn’t going up, but our brains are tricked into thinking it is. I have no idea why Set’s tricks would be employed now, but I have a feeling we’re not welcome aboard the Ziost Flame anymore.” 

“You think it’s Darth Set doing this?” Morgan put his helmet on, the inner fan cooling the man off, “It just can’t be a coincidence that our lord’s skill are suddenly being used against us.”

Donovan shook his head, “No, it’s not Set himself. If it were, we’d be feeling more than hot right now. But, usually this ability was followed by something even darker than an illusion.” 

Rathwell shouted, “HELL!” as smoke began to curl from the shattered bones beneath his boot, wrapping itself around his foot. The big man was quickly able to get free of its grip, but he cracked through more remains as he stumbled backwards. Smoke poured from each of their bodies, forming into strange forms that stood around the troopers. They remained still, until Donovan spoke again.

“Phantoms. They’re not just here to scare us, boys.” The Captain adjusted his rifle to its highest setting, “They’re here to add us to their ranks. FIRE AT WILL, EXTREME PREJUDICE. SEND THESE PHANTOMS PACKING.”

The shadows lunged, Captain Donovan pushing Morgan out of the way. Blasting a hole through the first one in his way, he pointed forward, “We need to get into the light! Seein’ these bastards will give us a good advantage!” He activated an Echani shield around his arm, punching another smokey form out of the way. Running forward, he seemed to be the target the entities were hunting. Rathwell’s scattergun made fast work of a few more, but they seemed to be easily capable of reforming within an instant. Whatever Donovan schemed, Morgan hoped it would deal with the immortal nature of these projections. As one scraped his arm, the searing pain was very real. Illusions they were not. 

Morgan lifted his rifle, foolishly shining a light into the hallway. Bringing light to the dark was originally something he figured could give him an edge, but it ended up psyching the marine out. The hall was lined with the spectral smoke, clawing and scraping at metal. The trooper could clearly see the fiery marks left behind by their talons, as thousands of reflective eyes glared back at him. Rathwell jumped at the sight, unloading a volley of plasma down the hall. Some screeching was heard, the sounds of energy dissipating, but as with the other downed specters, they reformed extremely quickly. Thinking quickly, Morgan clicked a sonic detonator from his belt, flinging it down the hall. Donovan fired another volley through the air, cutting through the figures approaching Morgan, giving the Sergeant a little time to pull off his plan.

The grenade clinked against the ground and was clearly visible, allowing Morgan to fire upon it with the grace of an expert Sniper. One shot was enough to detonate the grenade, a sonic wave greatly disrupting the air around it. Metal bent, a gust of air blew back into their faces, and the throngs of shadowy demons screamed as the disruption broke their forms. From their broken forms, an evil red flame began to spill outwards. Crossing the floor, licking out like the tongue of a krayt dragon, it threatened to overtake the three men before they reached the end of the hall. Picking up the pace, Rathwell set his scattergun to an auto-matic mode, peppering the air with thousands of bolts of hot plasma. It was not enough to keep all of the demons away, ripping at the troopers’ armor with little regard to shielding. At the end of the hall, each of the men were smoking with smoldering wounds, their armor threatening to fall apart. 

At the end of the hall, there was a branching path. One branch lead to the infirmary and to the elevator shaft that lead deeper into the ship, the infirmary providing a good place to stand against the band of wraiths. Jumping deeper into the ship might prove now to be a death sentence, for perhaps whatever waited down there was more malignant than a set of flaming ghosts. Another path lead back to where Corporal Okk was keeping watch, meaning the same place they came from. It’d be a coward’s way out, but regrouping with Okk and Behel’s men was potentially a good idea. That was, of course, if they could outrun the shadow horde. And the final route lead to the bridge, and Morgan had his doubts. He had no idea what could have been sent Avadd’s way, but he’s certain if something was sent after her… it was much more ugly than these things. He was certain Avadd could easily survive it, nonetheless, as she was nigh immune to fire like this. If something came against her, it’d have to be much more than numbers and firepower to take her out.

Morgan had a sneaking suspicion that Avadd was their best bet, here. He also had a suspicion that Okk sensed this trap, and that was the reason the trandoshan was so on edge. A creature like the Corporal probably could sense things better than a normal man could, though that just led him to wonder if Okk should have warned them more about what he sensed. Perhaps it was simple paranoia. Nevertheless, a decision would have to be made quickly. Morgan looked to Donovan, “Sir?”

“Three paths, paths we all know what waits at the end. The infirmary is closest, though I don’t like our chances there. Corporal Okk would be a welcome asset here, and getting back to Behel would be in our best interests, but that’s a long ways out. Avadd could easily handle these things, though I don’t like the idea of meeting anything on the way meant to kill her. Mixing the cohorts of the spirits here and whatever that could be doesn’t inspire confidence in me.” The Captain jams a shot of kolto into his exposed thigh, “I say we split up. I’ll take the Infirmary, Rathwell you meet with Avadd, and Morgan… run back to Behel’s group.”

“Sir, that’s suicide! Your life is worth-” Donovan glared at Morgan as he made his protest.

The Captain’s steely glare sent shivers down Morgan’s back, “You won’t defy a direct order, will you, son?” 

“Sure he won’t, but I will. Screw yer orders.” The big man grinned, “Ye ain’t dyin’ today, Cap’n. There ain’t no point ta’ it.” He cocked his scattergun and ran down the hall to the infirmary, despite Donovan’s yelling.

Another chill ran through Morgan. He knew that he had just watched a close friend of his run to his death, but he couldn’t say that it was the first time he’d seen such bravery on display. It was a bitter feeling to know yet again he had remained silent on such duty, just to stay alive. He had survived so many journeys with the Ashen Beasts, but he wondered how much of it was due to cowardice. A survivor had no reason to exist in a war like the many he has survived through, billions of lives lost in battles he scraped by in. By all statistical measures, he should be among the names that adorned a list of the lost from his home. Instead, he stood back, accepting the bravery of another of the lost. He heard Rathwell scream and fire round after round in the dark, until silence overtook the hallway. Donovan’s face grew grim, as it was certain that he could no longer detect Rathwell’s signal.

The Sergeant died to give them a chance.

And suddenly, something gripped Sergeant Morgan. Those years of survivor’s guilt burned in his Imperial spirit, the depths of shame finally filling his heart. Not a soul would remember him if he died a coward, so instead, he looked to his Captain, “Rathwell was right, sir. You must live! I will not run like a dog, with my tail between my legs, back to safety. I will find Avadd!”

Donovan looked stricken with grief, but he could see the determination in his soldier’s eye. There was no future in denying the man of his justice. With a resolute nod, Donovan sprinted back to the safety of Corporal Okk and Behel’s team. The heat was ramping up now that Morgan hadn't anything to take his mind off of it. Just the company of the meager fan in his helmet and the spirits that were quickly catching up to him, and the hope that whatever strength he had left in him could carry him to the side of his savior. The gloomy halls of a downed star destroyer began to light up as the intense heat carried by his pursuers began to scorch the rotten dead around him, turning a once dark and desolate atmosphere into one that almost resembled primitive renditions of an afterlife born only to punish the deceased. The chasing flames of the defeated wraiths started to bite against his heels, the claws of the spirits occasionally cutting through the remains of the armor on his back. 

It was Morgan’s life for the lives of the others. It was a sacrifice worthy of the Empire.

“You wanted to know what my other concern was, Agent.” Avadd’s saber flashed outwards in a flurry of strikes, another droid crumpling to her might. Pointing her blade toward an approaching colossal spider droid, “This is what.”

“You feared berserk droids?” The Chiss blasted a hole in a protocol droid carrying a jagged piece of scrap metal, “That or you mean there is something else behind this!”

“Come on, Muar’cisin’arco. Use your intellect for a moment here and consider what’s happened.” Avadd burned through one of the legs of a war droid, lifting her free hand to use the Force to throw it into a pack of violent droids, “The signal reactivates, we find no real traces of anything. The moment we do; the elevator shaft explodes and a swarm of violent droids pour out from the section of the ship I chose not to investigate. Think about my personality, Chiss.”

“Abrasive, standoffish, and very practical.” The Agent ducked beneath a claw of a loader droid, kicking its knees out.

“Yes. Practical. I only wanted to search data centers and the armory, the only places that Darth Set’s crew would reasonably cache any information.” A round of heavy cannon fire fell around Avadd as she deflected bolt after bolt with both Force and saber, “Set knows me. Set knows my brother. This is a test.”

Arcisina’s vibroknife tore out the neck of a blade-wielding service droid, “Or a trap.” She knocked it down, another pair of protocol droids running after her as fast as they could.

“If it were a trap, we’d be dead.” A fearsome slash cut the spider droid’s first leg in twain, causing it to topple. Two strikes from her fist made the machine tumble, and a final mighty strike of her blazing blade split the construct’s shell into two distinct halves. With the precision of a trained warrior, Avadd pushed both halves to the side, the malfunctioning machinery exploding on contact with the other droid cohorts. Her fierce yellow eyes flicked back to Arcisina, who pushed another wardroid off of herself, “But perhaps that means it is a trap to the rest of you.”

“I will not pretend that Set cared much for his Ashen Beasts, beyond those in the lead of it. There’s a reason he called them beasts, not warriors. He respected warriors, but his definition only often included those who could use the Force. If not them, Mandalorians or other war-cults like them were held in high regard. A soldier fights for home and payment. A warrior fights for war, for battle, to improve themselves.” Avadd clenched her fist, her mouth curling into a prominent frown, “That was the only thing I ever disagreed with my master on. Home is just as good as a reason to fight, to be a warrior, as challenge is.”

Wiping some blood from her mouth, Arcisina seemed to reorient herself just enough. Seeing Avadd fight was nothing short of amazing, as though the droids were disorganized and relatively weak, there were many of them. Each of them were supercharged, as well, leading their attacks to hit surprisingly hard. The moment they breached the shaft and broke her defensive perimeter, she at least assumed she’d be able to dip and dodge out of the way of harm. Instead, a metal fist cracked against her jaw, knocking more than enough teeth out of her mouth to tell her that another hit like that would do more than knock teeth out. But Avadd? Even when the big Sith got hit, it was as if nothing happened. In fact, she swore that she had seen one of the protocol droids dislodge their arm hitting the Sith. For a moment it made Arcisina envy Avadd’s strength, but there was no point in being jealous of something that was generally unobtainable. Keeping her mind in the game, she chose to respond to Avadd with a question, “So this is why you think this is a test by your master? These droids prove no challenge to someone like you, it’s just meant to get you thinking. To the rest of us, the swarm would be well-enough to at least overwhelm a few of us.”

“Whatever the orchestrator of this wants, they knew Set. They knew Set’s people.” Avadd turned her saber off, “I need answers, so I need to get us off this ship. Especially your decrypter pad.” Closing the gap between them with great haste, Avadd stuck her hand out for the agent’s datapad, “It’ll be safer with me.”

“With all due respect, Miss Behermo, you are too reckless in battle for me to entrust this to you.” Arcisina waved to Avadd’s relatively torn and tattered armor, “You seem to be much too willing to get hit for me to want to give this to you.”

“Hnnn…” Avadd growled, “... Fair enough. Do not lag behind me, unless you want me to be forced to leave you to die here.”

A quick salute almost made Avadd want to throw the Chiss from the bridge, but she knew her irritation was no excuse to murder a valuable ally. Or to murder, period. Death should have more meaning than ‘I was annoyed’. As the Sith turned around to leave the bridge, the Ziost Flame shook. The vessel tipped somewhat to the side, the bridge rattling with this sudden force. She stood her ground, feeling the ship shake and hearing the weakened metal around her groan, seeking an answer to this sudden upheaval. The smell of fuel and burnt flesh came soon after, as she heard blaster fire and Imperial shouting fill the hallway. The noise grew closer until she saw the dark hall brighten, smoke curling the corners. The shouting had a source, as a heavily wounded soldier rounded the corner, periodically peppering the hall behind him with volleys of plasma. Angry scarlet flames chased behind him, claws and figures of both smoke and fire at his heels. Sergeant Morgan was being chased by something Avadd easily recognized.

Though she was sure Donovan knew the trickery of her master, Avadd knew it intimately. Set could pull upon the life essence of the deceased and turn it into a wave of angry Force creatures, and he often used it to kill targets quickly and effectively. It was a mistake to send it against the Captain. But, it did prove one of Avadd’s worst fears. Whoever was laying this test out for her, they at least were a disciple of Set. This was a betrayal by a member of the Red Dawn, at the very least. More evidence had begun to mount, leading Avadd to doubt that it was merely a servant of Set.

More and more she knew that she’d be seeing her master again, and it would not be a happy reunion. A wall of Force energy was erected behind Morgan, both of Avadd’s hands lifted to build the barrier. It was a null-Force wall, hopefully strong enough to negate the spirits for the time being. Watching Morgan stumble and fall, his breath ragged and harsh, she knew the man had run far and hard to get here. Seeing his wounds, she knew the man would be dead if not for the cauterizing effect of the pursuers’ attacks. This was getting sloppy, and it was concerning her more and more. Arcisina knelt to tend to Morgan, kolto giving the man the strength to prop himself back up. The adrenaline had run out, he barely had the energy to move.

“Speak.” Avadd was terse.

Morgan gasped, caught his breath, and leaned to look at her, “Donovan said this was something that Set used. The Captain’s fine, he ran back to Behel… But we lost Rathwell.” He looked around at the wrecked droids, “Guess I was right about something being sent your way, though I expected something worse.”

Arcisina propped Morgan’s head up on her lap, “I don’t like that your theory is being confirmed, Avadd.” Her stoic features turned into a concerned look, “If they were trying to kill us, they’d’ve sent something much worse than droids to kill you. Either this is the most coincidental sloppy assassination attempt in galactic history, or we’re being lead on.”

“Either way, you both are trapped. Those flames are practically useless against me, but they’d kill you.” Avadd pulled one of her hands away from the wall, blowing down a scorched wall on the side of the bridge, “That’s the only way out for you two. I can’t imagine you’d survive the fall without the Force.”

“So we’re dead?” Morgan chuckled, “Guess this was the right move…”

“No, but you’ll need to trust me.” The Sith used her free hand to rip some of the floor of the hallway up into a makeshift wall, running over and reaching her hand down to Morgan, “Take my hand.”

The soldier did, a perplexed look on his face. As he did, Arcisina groaned, “This isn’t the worst idea I’ve seen…” And in a moment, Morgan was held over Avadd’s shoulder, “But it is the most embarrassing.” 

“It’s either your pride or your life, Agent.” Avadd carried Morgan like he was weightless, “Take my hand or burn.” 

As Arcisina watched the makeshift wall begin to melt, she sucked down her ego, and took Avadd’s hand. Avadd pulled her in, causing her to yelp, and soon she was equally in a compromising position as Morgan. The wall broke, the flames poured, and she shouted, “PLEASE DON’T MAKE MY LAST MOMENTS SHAMEFUL!”

Charging with inhuman speed, Avadd leapt from the bridge, the fire biting at their backs. By the literal seats of their pants, they barely escaped the ire of Set’s shadow hordes. Through use of the force, they landed relatively easily on the blackened ground around the wreckage of the Ziost Flame, the ship set completely ablaze by fiery spirits. Avadd set Morgan down, let Arcisina off of her shoulder, and pulled up her communicator. Treating the shock of the landing like it was nothing, she tried to contact her brother. The only answer was static, with another shadow looming on the horizon.

The troubles on Amun had just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last of the 2020 chapters. I enjoyed writing Donovan's team a little too much at the time, I think, because rereading it made me want to write more of them. Alas, this is the tale of Avadd Behermo first and foremost.


	4. Eruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things on Amun come to a climax. It seems that the shadowy mastermind behind this whole charade is ready to reveal themselves, and that the Ashen Beasts are about to run into quite the predicament. Damned Sith treachery.

The Harrower Class dreadnought was the largest ship in the Imperial Navy. At least, the largest proper battle cruiser. Avadd had seen one too many Imperials get the bold idea to retrofit a space station into a cruiser, but those things never lasted. They’d fall to pieces the moment they reached the stars, blown to bits by the Republic or just by rival Sith. She’d come to this world to see the fate of her master and a vessel she’d grown a familiarity to. Perhaps it bordered on affection, though she’d never admit it. In just a few minutes, however, she’d watched said vessel get reduced to a smoldering heap and found the fate of her master.

A fate aboard a ship far larger than a Harrower.

It lingered in the heavens, a hesitant shade of betrayal. It looked less like a battle cruiser and more a drake of ancient myth, a force monstrosity that lined the histories of the Sith. A darkside abomination held aloft by arcane forces beyond their ken. Lethargic, the gluttonous monstrosity lowered itself to face them. She was silent, her mouth thinning into a grim line. The two companions she rescued were not as quick to accept this sight.

Morgan, facing far too many near death experiences already, shivered. His face had taken an ashen complexion, his eyes bulging from his head. And Arcisina, a Chiss without as much composure as most of her peers, had long since cast off her stoic facade. Her red eyes were wide, her mouth agape, and her hands slack. She looked as if she had accepted death. Both of them aggravated Avadd, but she wouldn’t let it show. The rage they provided her would be used for better purposes. The warrior’s thoughts went back to her communicator. Once again, she tried to contact her brother. Still static. She spiked it into the dirt after it continued to fizzle at her. “Though we stand alone, I trust that Behel will be here soon.”

“...You trust another Sith to be dependable? Ma’am… you’re crazy.” Morgan had snapped back to his senses. “Sorry to speak out of turn, but that’s gotta be a Sith dreadnought! Could be that you’ve been left to the hounds.” 

“While you are right to distrust the Sith, Sergeant, I trust that you will not speak ill of my brother again.” A threat left unsaid, but it lingered nonetheless. “He and I came to find Set. Set is above us, now. He would not miss this, not even for a petty Sith game.” 

The lumbering behemoth now suffocated the sky. Ra-Atum’s light no longer could illuminate the ground, smothering the land in shadow. For a moment, the dark was all there was. The dark, the heavy breathing of the injured Sergeant, and the hum of that ship’s massive thrusters. Then, there was light. Not from the ship, but from Avadd. Pushing the oppressive darkness away with a flash of pink, the warrior had drawn her blade. Not just that, but she had pointed it directly towards the gigantic ship that now hovered a few hundred meters above their heads. It hung low in the sky like a predator ready to pounce. But to Avadd, there was only one predator on Amun. One apex.

Her pink blade did more than return visibility to the area, however. As much as it was a challenge towards the master of that ship, it had inadvertently revealed the next stage of her trial, as the shadows around them had begun to congeal. Arcisina was quick to toss Morgan a blaster, the both of them prepared for the worst. But Avadd did not flinch. “Ma’am! We’re surrounded! I don’t know how this works for you Sith types, but those things can tear straight through Durasteel! Might be that they can rip through beskar, too!”

“Do not value their iron to such a high degree. Nothing is more powerful than the Force. No metal, no machine… and certainly no starship.” Avadd finally spoke, and her words were disconcerting. Morgan and Arcisina looked at each other for a moment in an attempt to parse what she meant. Either she was saying that the force specters around them were no match for her, or that she was prepared to tear that ship down from the sky. Pulling down starships was not an easy feat. Even some of the greatest Sith struggle to handle small transports, not to mention entire cruisers. It had been done, but not to this scale, and definitely not by a minor Sith like Avadd. 

Arcisina may have not known Avadd’s history, but Morgan did. He knew of the Behermo twins, she was not the sorcerer. Her power was in her inhuman strength and endurance. Avadd Behermo was strong. She was mighty. But she did not hold the power to tear down a starfighter, not to mention a dreadnought. He doubted even Behel could budge that leviathan. But, despite all of that, he wanted to believe that she could. She was a minor Sith, not even yet a Lord, definitely not a Darth. But if she could bring that ship down, she likely would be seen as one of the greatest sith in the galaxy. A peerless warrior with strength outstripping even the Sith Emperor. He could see her now, bored out of her mind on the throne of the Sith, diadem resting in her unruly hair. Emperor Behermo, the only Sith who could say that domination was entirely boring.

So when he saw the Sith’s jaw set, he knew he was about to witness something either foolish, crazy, awe-inspiring, or all of those combined. Her hands lifted skyward, a scowl and even a deep grimace now casting her face in a deep shadow. Her hands curled into fists. Then he could feel it. Even those who could not sense the Force could feel it. Could perceive it. It was not a sense as much as it was a sensation, like feeling any other energy or motion. The Force was always distinct, and that was never more true than with the Darkside. Any man could tell you that the Darkside had a distinct feeling. More neutral and Lightside energies had a serenity to them that the Dark denied. No, the Dark thrived off of pain. Off of chaos. And most importantly, off of fear. And in the fact of a powerful display, any man could be driven to feel fear. Even the greatest Jedi felt fear in the face of sheer darkside energy. It was just that a Jedi tended to be brave enough to face this fear, to invalidate this fear.

Most men were not Jedi. Nowhere near as brave, and twice less likely to survive a battle against a Sith.

The fear in Morgan’s heart was thricefold. Above him lingered a horrific vessel of untold destructive power. Ahead of him was his longtime superior, drowning the land with the fearful might of the darkside. Surrounding them was the shadow host that had nearly killed him just moments prior. And all he had was a piddly little Chiss blaster. It wasn’t even Imperial grade.

His day could’ve been better, but he was where he was. Nothing to do about it other than to try to survive the day. “Agent! Before you start shooting, these things are basically mindless. If we can somehow corral them and pin ‘em down, I’ve got one last Thermal Detonator. It’ll slow ‘em down, at the very least.”

The Chiss looked over. “What do you suggest we do to get their attention? Avadd is practically glowing with the light of a star.”

Morgan was going to respond, but he couldn’t find an answer. Damn crafty Chiss. She was right. Her kind were usually right. Both infuriating and helpful, at least. Morgan was ready to run out there and start yelling, but he doubted he’d register to the things before they blew through him to swarm the pink and bright red star that was Avadd Behermo. So, he started to think. Those creatures were taking some time to form, at the very least, so he had a moment.

“Do you have any explosives on you?” He raised up his Thermal Detonator. “Anything like this?”

“No. The nature of this mission required me to act more as a medic than a demolitions expert. My tools are all kolto.” The Chiss looked at her rifle. “Though, I think I could modify my weapon to create an energy burst bright enough to draw them away. That is, if you’re certain that it is light that draws them.”

“They didn’t start attacking us until we flashed our lights on ‘em. And after that, it was just a matter of the things catching a whiff of our blood. Since I’m still bleedin’...” He lifted his borrowed pistol. “Just need to give them a good reminder of what I smell like.”

She gave him a barely hidden look of disgust. “Are Sith sorceries usually this… morose?”

“They can be worse.” He handed her pistol back to her. “Don’t think about that, now, though. Can you do your energy burst thing with this? It doesn’t sound the most healthy for your gun.”

“It’d likely fry the weapon’s power cells. So, yes. My weapon would be best used as a maul after I pulled that off.” She looked up at the Imperial. “I see what you’re trying to infer.”

He gave her a confused look when she said that. “Huh?”

“You wish for me to activate the burst with the smaller blaster, whilst you take my weapon to defend Avadd. Your devotion is quite peculiar, Imperial.” There it was. Devotion. The word caught in Morgan’s mind like a fly in a spider’s web. Most men like him fought at a Sith’s side out of obligation and sheer terror. Not a day would go by without him catching a conversation from his fellows, with only the most glowing reviews of their missions with Sith. As in, it was a surprise that mutinies weren’t more common amongst the armed forces. The Sith ruled without much care for their subordinates. Each soul was a stone in the path to power. Meant only to be trodden upon.

Yet, he could not say the same about the Behermo Twins. Nor could he really say that about Set, even though Set didn’t regard a career soldier in the highest esteem. These Sith respected warriors. They respected bravery and boldness. If you went above and beyond for them, they commended you. There was a tangible purpose to serving these Darksiders outside of the fear of death. Behel had treated his captains and elites to high class dinners and provided them with fine arms. Set granted the highest honors to those who’d committed great acts of bravery in his name, immortalizing them in the halls his army called home in Kaas City. The Darth even had gone so far to give benefits to his soldiers, making it so that death or disability wouldn’t force them into slavery or servitude. 

And Avadd? It was true that she didn’t tend to lead soldiers, at least not like her brother or her old master. This one preferred to be a pawn, manipulated in battle for the success of many. Her saber was not one that ushered in a charge, no, she was the saber that drove the charge. So when it came to honoring those who fought alongside her, you’d be treated to more personal things. Avadd wasn’t an avid conversationalist, nor was she particularly versed in most high society ideas. She left the socializing to her brother.

Instead, those devoted to Avadd Behermo were given trust. Protection. They were treated to training with the Sith Warrior, learning from her. In a sense, where Set and Behel offered wealth and positions of honor… Avadd provided herself as a mentor. As a guardian.

Morgan was devoted to Avadd Behermo. Any other Sith would have left him to die. Any other Sith would have surrendered in the face of odds this overwhelming. And truly, he wouldn’t have cared for just any other Sith if they stood against such forces. He tried to imagine if her brother were standing in her place, wrestling a lumbering monstrosity. It didn’t stir his heart. That sight did not fill him with pride.

Arcisina saw straight through him.

“I’m that predictable, huh? Well, you’re right. Set off the burst, and I’ll keep us all alive.” He reached out his hand.

And to his satisfaction, he was given the Chiss’ rifle. “Do not break my gun, Imperial. I’ll never hear the end of it if you do.”

He clicked the weapon to full auto, maximum firepower. With a grin, he turned to face the shadow horde. “No promises!” With that being said, he firmly planted himself in place. He squared his shoulders and faced the growing swarm of smoke demons created by Set’s sorcery. “Get moving. The quicker we get that burst, the quicker we can buy Avadd some time.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith into a lesser Sith. Should we not use her distraction, as well as our own, to escape this planet?” The Chiss, ever analytical, had a decent point. She, however, failed to account for one thing.

With a resolute shake of his head, Morgan chuckled. “Nah. We’d survive, only to be skewered by the blade of her pissed off twin brother. You think he’d forgive us for leaving her behind?”

“And here I was told to beware the callous Lords of the Dark. A sibling bond breaking beyond the typical nature of a Darksider? Color me impressed.” She did not sound all that impressed, or she tried not to.

“Is impressed another shade of blue? ‘Cuz you sound it.” To that, all Morgan heard was the sound of boots against stone, the Chiss quickly running off with a huff. If he saw her again, he’d have to ask her to join him for dinner. Maybe Donovan could tag along with that Alderaanian girl he’d been chasing. A pleasant thought in the face of certain annihilation. Time to put his special forces training to the test. Could he keep these “Ashen Beasts” at bay? 

Even if he couldn’t, something remarkable was happening.

She grabbed at the air as if she held onto something larger than the world beneath her. Crimson lightning crackled around her, the blackened soil of the Ziost Flame’s crash site being flung around her in a whirlwind. Stones thrown in the air by the might of the Dark, Avadd didn’t know where this power came from. As a child, it was Behel who took to the Dark Arts. As acolytes and apprentices, it was Behel who showed the greatest potential in sorcery. And as adults, it was Behel who tapped into the deeper and darker places of the Force. Avadd had instead focused her body, her will, and her saber. Where he had become a true warlock, she’d found herself as a warrior. 

It was true that she’d largely neglected her Force training. She could lift heavier objects with her hands than with the Force. Many Sith found that rather hilarious, though their amusement quickly ended when she was able to lift several tons, and they could not lift her at all. Lightning barely phased her. Blaster fire merely scorched her. She’d even taken several lightsaber hits without losing her limbs. In truth, it was less that she’d neglected her Force training, and more that she’d trained in a less trodden path. Many were quick to see power in the extraordinary. But what was more extraordinary? The ability to devour all life in a world, or the ability to survive that?

And then, there she stood, hands curled around the neck of an invisible foe… doing something Behel would do. As much as she’d trained for the day she saw her master again, she hadn’t trained outside of the path she blazed for herself. Set would chastise her and then commend her for staying true to herself. And then, he’d be proud to see her stand in defiance against something she truly couldn’t stand against. It was clear and obvious to anyone that Avadd was not going to pull that ship from the sky. But she was going to try. Would it be worse to have no chance by giving up, or to try to give yourself a chance despite overwhelming odds?

Truly, the answer didn’t matter to Avadd. It simply wasn’t in her nature to give up. The other option was never an option, never in consideration. So as she drew upon a well of power far beyond her normal capabilities, she felt exhilarated. Like she’d grown twice her height and achieved the strength to darken a star, or to crush a battlefleet in her palm. She felt gigantic. This moment was not for Behel. It was not for Set, nor was it for the Red Dawn or the Ashen Beasts. It was not even for the memory of Ziost.

This infinitesimal moment in the eternal march of time was entirely for her. If Darth Set was truly aboard that ship, she wanted him to see her. She wanted him to see how strong she’d become. She wanted her brother to see her, her soldiers to see her. Even as they fought for their lives against the monsters meant for her, she wanted them to stop everything and look at her. It was selfish, but so too was the power of the Darkside. For the first time since Darth Set vanished, Avadd felt herself smiling. Teeth pressed together, lips separating, and her jaw still clenched… she gave the biggest toothy smile of her life.

It looked utterly goofy. She knew that her brother would make fun of her for it. That did not matter, however, for this was not about him. That was her thought until she felt the power of another join with her’s in a perfect synergy, crimson lightning joined by blue. Avadd snapped out of her trance for a moment to look to her side, to see her brother reaching to the sky above. He’d lost his helmet and had been through quite some conflict, his armor damaged, his face burned and scarred. His red eyes met with her’s for a moment. An unspoken agreement. 

With a roar in her throat, a shout in his, the Behermo Twins continued their attempt to do the impossible. ‘Twas all they knew how to do. For their master never expected any less of his disciples. So as his shadow horde was felled by bolt after bolt, drawn astray by a blinding light caused by alien ingenuity, and the few demons he could muster were blown away by the force of that sibling’s bond… the Mastermind behind this all could do nothing but applaud the show. It was fruitless, but it was a display of such sheer devotion to the art of battle that it enthralled him.

Then, at the utter shock of the mastermind behind it all, he felt his masterpiece list to the side. Just a slight nudge in the wrong direction, easily fixed by his crew. Something impossible had been done. Something he never expected those twins to do, not even in his dreams. They were the pride of the dying Sith Race, destroyed by years of subservience to the Dark Jedi, molded into something they were not by the dreams of an Empire. Their blood did not make them pure. No, they were made pure through expression. He saw a red blade activate, casting a dark light to contrast its sister’s brightness. Both pink and red were brandished in the face of his life’s work, and he felt his heart thud in his chest. It was beautiful. Wonderful.

Now it was time for the true test to begin. He did not need to order his followers to ready a landing craft. In fact, he needed only to turn from the helm for them to understand the next step of their operation. The lure had been set. The bait had been taken. And now, they sat right in the palm of their master’s hand. What happened next was entirely based on how convincing their master could be, or how quickly he could close his fist.

The halls were lined with black and white clad soldiers- warriors given cause through his mission. Flanking him were heroes born from the ashes of an empire at war, burned and emboldened by betrayal and conquest, never to flinch again from an order from their one true lord. And there he was, a scion of Dark, a Master of Beasts. He knew the true nature of man, the nature that man feared so deeply. Men were no better than the beasts they built walls to defend themselves from. A man wanted to kill. Each man lived with the desire to rip and shred, the burden to wish to taste blood. To war, to clad oneself in honor and purpose, was to chase this hunger.

The weight of his great blade was not a burden, but a blessing. As long as it was there, he possessed power. Power to destroy. Even if were wrenched from his hands, he could savage with his bare fists. There was nothing any soul could do to stop his pursuit of war. For if they tried, they would find themselves contending with the forge of man’s future. They’d be blasted away by fire and fervor. That, and a blade would be buried in their chests. 

This was his testament. A wordless march to take flight, to spread his wings and meet with the abandoned souls below. Whether or not he could relight the guttering sparks of domination in their hearts was entirely up to them. With a wave of his hand, the shadows were abated, a calm in a storm. Morgan ceased his onslaught. Arcisina stopped running. And Avadd and Behel measured the landing craft’s approach. He saw Behel’s face shift into one of recognition. The sorcerer already knew what was about to happen. In Avadd, he only saw a predator preparing to leap. Ever the dynamic duo.

When the craft opened, his men fanned out into a circle. His bravest and most exalted kept at his side. All except for him began to tense as they saw the twin Sith. Even he felt a little hesitation tug at him as he looked upon them.

It had been five years.

When they last saw him, Darth Set was a goliath of a man. A member of a race of aliens none had ever seen before, Set was both an enigma and a terror, his presence dominating every room he entered. If he wanted to, he could’ve been a member of the Dark Council. He could’ve been many things if not for the simplicity of his desires. There was no point in ruling the Empire. He could do more from where he was, at ground zero.

From where he was now, he could do anything. Set hadn’t changed. Freakishly tall and thin-limbed, he was a gangly yet strongly muscled creature. True face hidden behind an ornate and animalistic helm of an animal unknown in the galaxy at large, a pair of blood orange eyes studied and absorbed their every action. His full shape was hidden well by his flowing robes, only ever form fitting when the robes gave way to armored plating. And then there was his saber’s hilt. Even at a glance it was quite clear that it was abnormal. The hilt was much too long for a standard blade. Many would have great difficulty in adjusting to the sheer weight of such a weapon.

Behel couldn’t believe his eyes. Darth Set was alive and well. He’d remained unphased by the many years of war since his disappearance. In fact, he almost seemed to stand taller. No more did he hunch like a hungry animal. 

But Avadd met her old master’s glare. Despite his change in stance, the hunger was still there. It gnawed at him like a rabid hound at a carcass. 

The twins were shocked, but no more shocked than Set was. When he left them, the twins were still growing. Behel stood a head taller than his sister, yet he carried himself in such a way to make himself feel as if he were a dwarf in comparison. He’d learned how to stand with pride much too late. Ever the sorcerer in the shadows. Still, he had a certain nobility to him that he didn’t have before. The man that Behel became was proud of the power he possessed. He was proud to be himself.

The same could not be said of Avadd. Set remembered the girl as she was, a stripling that Behel begged him to save. Though he did not see it in her so long ago, she carried the potential to become one of the greatest warriors in the history of the Sith. She could stand eye to eye with him, now. And she’d filled out quite nicely. The product of her long efforts to become something worthy of Set’s training was her fine muscled physique. Yet, she didn’t stand due to pride. She stood before him with a single want in her mind. 

That made Set grin. He drew his saber from his belt. Though he left it unlit, he saw the look change in their eyes. They were not going to refuse his challenge. Behel seemed to be betrayed, though he knew this was coming. Avadd simply took her stance, a modified form of Juyo, and watched him. 

“Old man.” Behel’s voice held strong. The younger version of himself would’ve felt himself cracking in this situation, but he needed to stay strong this day. “You’ve been gone for a long time. Do you know how long we’ve all spent looking for you? You can finally come back to the Empire. Zakuul’s been beaten, the Empire’s back in full force… and we’re back to war. It’s what you wanted.”

Set didn’t respond. He watched Avadd begin to pace like a caged animal. Behel carried on. “You always knew it’d come back. Even when the Revanites forced us to stop fighting each other, you knew that there was no way the Republic and Empire could tolerate each other. And now, it seems like we’re out to utterly destroy each other. Isn’t that what you dreamed of?”

“It isn’t my dream, boy. It was my reality.” Set broke his silence. His voice was like honey, a melody of deep and rich tones. His words were accented by a foriegn cadence. Everything about him was larger than life, mythical. “‘Twas our testament. Each age of this galaxy’s history opens with a Red Dawn. An age of blood and fire that men grow weary of, despite it being their truth. They deny it, yet it festers. They let it feed from their frustrations and their desires. A beast of darkness. Slavering for man’s blood. And then, it strikes.”

“And it drinks from the jugular of a world in denial. Don’t you understand, my friend? This is what I’ve fought for. This is what I live in. This is our truth.” He spread his arms wide, head tilted upwards towards his flagship. “Perpetual bloodshed. A neverending galaxy of pain and fire. This war will be the anvil where the soul of man may be bettered, reforged. This chaos will be our crucible. I am glad that the usurpers were slaughtered, though I am saddened that I could not partake in their ruination. Zakuul was ever a talented combatant. Though, I cannot say that I enjoyed their ideals of galactic unity through the destruction of so many sources of strife. Here, on this world, I have readied a perfect army to make sure the onslaught never ends.”

Behel looked pained. Avadd continued pacing, sizing Set up. She was growing impatient. The sorcerer took a step back. “Master.” He sounded properly upset. “Where is the honor in that? You raised us on your ideals of honor, but you didn’t stand to defend the Empire. And now you say you want to keep the Empire locked in a never-ending war? I understand that we are warriors, but… This path lacks honor. Certainly you can see that.”

Set had to stop himself from laughing. This was definitely the reaction he expected from Behel. He’d been Set’s greatest student, yet he always learned the wrong lesson. Where Set taught the boy to create strife and chaos, Behel learned how to burn a path to victory. Instead of seeing the heart and soul of mankind, the burning desire for violence… Behel saw honor and glory. He was exactly as Set expected him to be. A paragon of the ancient Sith. A race of conquerors and warriors, they did not fight just to fight. They had ideals, sought victory. It was in their code, after all.

He wasn’t quite certain if that’s what Avadd believed in. Or even what Avadd believed in, at all. All he knew is that the reason she was here was to fight him. She’d learned that lesson, at the very least. If she were to flee this battle, she’d be incapable of calling herself a warrior. That was death to the young warrior. Or, at the very least, it wasn’t something she was willing to face.

Set activated his saber. It came alive with a low crackling hum, its charred orange light smothering the light of the twin’s blades. A massive orange blade hung in the dim light, its weight requiring even the likes of Set to wield it in both hands. He held it in front of him, eyes closed. “This is what you came for. You came for me. And knowing that… you came for a fight. If you do not fight me, you will die. This is how it has been, and always will be.”

“That is your truth.” Behel said, with a resigned sigh.

“This is our testament.” Avadd finally spoke. “A dance of ash and cinder, an eruption to exalt our soul.”

“Poetic. But such pretty language saveth not the warrior, for her survival comes in a clash of will and light. Tell me, my twins, can you stop this force of devastation? Or will you kneel to the Red Dawn that shall light eternity?” 

Set would not give them a second to answer with words, for he lunged forward, his mighty saber cutting a glowing crescent in the dim light beneath his leviathan. His advance was buffered by a pulse of Force energy, slowing his attack to be met by a pink saber. He slid his blade across her’s, quickly and deftly attempting to disarm her. She did not allow him, using more strength than Set expected out of her to push him back. He’d been parried.

Already his defenses had been opened wide. These twins had learned well to compliment their strengths. He’d need to be careful. Scorched by a the heat of Behel’s Force Immolation, Set was sent back a few paces. He was quicker than Avadd, he found, at least on foot. Though, not by much. He remembered how easy it was to keep her out of range when she was younger. It made him nostalgic to remember the determined look she had when she tried to hit him. Now, she was clashing with him almost as an equal. For a moment, he even felt that she overpowered him in sheer strength. Pride swelled in his heart. He’d forged that little Sithling into a real powerhouse.

The heft of his blade was enough to knock her off balance, but not enough to get her off of the offensive. Meanwhile, Behel waited. This was his greatest student? He remembered Behel being an avid duelist. Perhaps he finally was humbled by someone other than himself. Could it be that his sister showed him the folly of his ways, as the depths of the Force could not be studied by someone too busy trying to prove himself as a swordsman. So, it could be that Behel was waiting for his moment to lash out with the Force. His ability to create fire with the Darkside always made him a standout sorcerer. 

Set’s relentless attacks kept Avadd on the defensive, and he was pushing her into an advantageous position for him. Her back would be to a wall, as they grew closer to the wreckage of the Ziost Flame. So quickly had he found his stride against his students. They had improved, but he was a Dark Lord. 

So when he felt his skin licked by fire, his robes scorched and burned, and his lungs filled with smoke… he was honestly shocked. The great warlord hopped back and steadied himself, reversing the grip of his blade. He shook his head to beat back the haze that overtook his vision, looking onwards in awe. Never had he expected Behel’s mastery over the inferno to grow to such a degree. Small jets of flame had evolved into a great pyroclasm, the fury of a thousand volcanoes born from the hands of his disciple. Yet that was not the thing that caught his eye.

In the center of it stood Avadd Behermo. The fire crested over her form, yet she did not steer away from it. Not for a second did she flinch nor find pause in the fire that had forced him to retreat. Indeed, it seemed as if it were a mantle to the Sith Warrior. She found herself clad in fiery vestments, her body covered yet untouched by the masterful immolation weaved by Behel.  
She had the look of a Demon of Eld, a beast that folklore and faith would warn you against igniting its ire. For once it raged, it wouldn’t rest until it tasted your heart. Coming from a so-called God of War, that was high praise. Aggression filling his veins, he wanted to taste the smoke that billowed from her body. He wanted to drink deep on her hatred and violence. This was it.

Avadd had learned well. She made Set hungry for her blood, and she was hungry for his. Two beasts, dancing in a field of death and flame, for no purpose other than to fight. As what other purpose was there, other than to fight? Set roared. “TO FIGHT IS TO LIVE! YOU UNDERSTAND! What a fool I’ve been, to consider you other than my finest apprentice! Come, Avadd Behermo, bury your blade in my heart! Taste the savagery you desire! FIGHT! OR! DIE!”

“CAN YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF IF YOU DENY THIS?!” Set stomped on the brittle and blackened ground, sending boulders tumbling into the air. He could feel the exhilaration pump through his veins as he sent the barrage of stones hurtling towards her and her brother with a massive thrust of the Force. A flurry of pink cleaved those stones to pieces, with one of his stones rebounded his direction by Behel’s own push.

Set leapt into the air, his mouth open wide with a cackle, his great curved saber shattering it into jagged fragments. He kicked the storm of shards back to the twins, which got Behel to throw up a repulsing wall. Avadd, on the other hand, stepped through the fragments as if they were no worse than drops of rain. He landed on the ground with a heavy impact, more stones upheaved as he ran to cut Avadd down. The upheaval knocked her off balance, letting Set attack her with her guard weakened. Forced to defend with one hand for a short few trades, she was forced to backpedal. Even when she managed to get her two-handed grip back, her advantage was lost. Set was giving everything he had. Avadd wouldn’t be able to overpower her master now.

Avadd needed to maneuver the field to get Set’s back turned to Behel. As things currently were, she needed to turn things around. How could she do that, though, if Set controlled the flow of battle? She narrowed her eyes and tried something she wasn’t used to doing. Concentrating for a moment to make a risky move, she ducked below a swing of Set’s orange blade. Then, with the little space she had before he cut her down the middle, she drew upon as much might as she could. A shockwave was sent into the ground, letting Avadd leap over Set’s head. 

The Sith Lord just nearly missed taking her head off as she somersaulted over him, the plume of smoke from the blazing fire managing to smother his senses. She sheathed her saber and drew the rest of her energy into her fists, which she pushed in the direction of Set’s gut. The pulse didn’t move him as far as she had hoped, but his guard had been broken. It may have only been momentary. This, however, was exactly what she needed. Taking her opening, she leaned in and attacked Set from many angles. Each was meant to unfocus the Dark Lord long enough to get him to move backwards.

And he did. While his massive saber gave him an edge in power, it did not give him an edge in maneuverability. Avadd’s smaller blade gave her just enough dexterity to keep his guard in shambles long enough to prime a great upwards strike. Though Set managed to block it in time to save his left arm, he was still driven back a great distance by the strength of her attack. When he landed, he fixed his guard. He’d almost regained enough composure to jump back onto the offense, but then his eyes widened. His foe hoped that he’d be too slow to react.

As a great plume of flame erupted from Behel Behermo’s hands, Avadd sighed in relief. Her gambit worked.

Then with a dawning terror, she saw that charred orange blade stay lit. She saw it cut through the fire and move backwards, impossibly cutting through Beskar. “What teamwork. You two would put most members of the Dark Council into an early retirement with that little gambit.” 

“A shame the Dark Council was not the foe you were sent to devour. Would that you could be my Hand and my Wrath. But his heart did not beat to the pounding drums of war. His heart only thudded in fear, and now, I shall set it to rest. Fearful hearts are not worthy of my training, of my glory.” Set walked from the flame, body haloed by a dying flame.

Avadd didn’t need to see her brother fall to know that he was no more. Her vision blurred as she cried his name, tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t remember the last time she cried. She didn’t remember if she had ever cried.

“Come, Avadd. You understand the necessity of this pain. Can’t you see? I need not have both a Hand and a Wrath. Submit your hatred to a higher purpose, to something above the Empire, above your blood. Be my Wrath. Come and drown thousands of worlds in blood, darken their stars with your fury! This is what it means to live!”

Avadd could do nothing but feel hollow in his declaration. She’d heard so many tales of Sith turning against their family and finding power. All she felt was her own heart being torn apart, every ounce of her strength taken from her in a cold flood. This was the pain Set sought? This was the forge he decided mankind required?

It was sickening.

Set did not give her the time to collect her thoughts, nor to think. He continued on his savage onslaught, yet this time he was mostly uncontested, for he drove her back with ease. Her defenses were broken with striking simplicity. But she could feel the storm of strikes begin to slow. In time, it stopped, and her wrist was grabbed by a massive hand.

“Is that all it takes to destroy your fury? Should you not find strength in his death, girl? That was the power that propelled you before. You feared his death. So you grew stronger. Now he is dead, and it was because you were too weak. Does that not drive you mad? You disappoint me.” His voice was bitter. “I laid this stage out for you both. You were meant to join my side, join my brotherhood. We’d savage the stars together, unstoppable.”

“Do you know why I came to this world? At first, it was a meager curiosity. A colleague of mine, Darth Dominus, had discovered this place in Malgus’ files after his defeat. In his excellence, he’d been exploring unexplored sections of space to expand the Empire after his seizure of power. Though he failed, he left these things for those willing to take it. I took this knowledge from the Serpent, as she willed the Empire to grow stronger through knowledge of the unknown. And with her knowledge, I discovered Ra-Atum. I found Amun.” He grabbed her face and forced her to look him in the eye. “A nexus of Darkside energy covered in ruins of an unknown civilization. With statues of aliens like myself and your own kind. While I first saw it as an anomaly worth studying, when the Eternal Empire invaded, my eyes were opened.”

“My ship crashed, my fleet destroyed, Zakuul had me pinned. But then, a voice filled my head. Each of my senses were overwhelmed with majesty as Amun-Rath spoke to me. Amun has a soul, Avadd! Amun-Rath destroyed the Eternal Empire’s ships with a mass gravity storm, and from that moment, I knew I was in the presence of something greater than a mere Darkside nexus. The Eternal Empire’s survivors knew it, too. And soon, we banded together in a united cause. Amun-Rath held secrets beyond our previous ken, and to delve deep into it, we had to form a Brotherhood of likeminded souls. And for years, we recruited in shadow. We used the secrets we learned from Amun-Rath to create machines powered by the Force. The Brotherhood had stumbled upon something I can only consider a God of the Darkside. Indeed, Avadd…”

“This place is the Will of the Dark itself. And it sends me to wage my war! Can’t you see? I have long submitted myself to the true heart of mankind, and that heart is war! That heart is the Darkside! The heart of us all is Amun-Rath!”

Avadd deactivated her lightsaber which elicited Set to let her go. The Sith nearly fell to the ground, but something kept her standing. They had searched this long for this madness? Set had kept away from them so long because he had bound himself to a master? Free-willed Set. Independent Lord Set, always too willful to join the Dark Council. The same jackal-headed Darth that had given Avadd and Behel the ability to define their own destinies. This is where this all led. And this is what ended Behel’s life? “This is what it means to live?”

“Do you see now, girl?”

Set’s disappointment was broken as he found himself sprawled across the ground, his animalistic helm cracked. There it was. The fury he’d created in her. “Took you long enough.” He said, wiping blood from his mouth, the world spinning from Avadd’s suckerpunch.

As he looked her in the eye, he’d never felt so much hatred. 

“This is not what it means to live. This is what it means to die, Darth Set.” She activated her blade again, the Force practically rippling from her body as she moved. “And to think I saw you as unstoppable. Now I am to be your first and final defeat.”

“I relish the thought, Avadd. Show me how much you’ve grown!”

Both of them jumped forward, driven by hunger and hate. Pink and charred orange met in the dim light of Amun, with a captive audience left breathless in the sheer spectacle of it all. Finality hung in the air. As with all things, this battle must end. The Demon against the God of War. Playing field made even by her rage, anything could happen. Avadd carried a grim expression into her fateful battle against a cackling warlord. To think that even Set could be driven to such madness… Was this the ultimate demise of all great Sith? The next few moments would decide their fates.

The ashes of an empire fell around their decisive battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one more left! I like to visualize Darth Set in a traditional Japanese watercolor style, even though the guy is very obviously based off of Egyptian mythos. 
> 
> If this stuff gets traction, I might actually go ahead and start drafting the outline of a larger Brotherhood of Amun tale. This chapter was written on March 1st, 2021. Pretty neat to go back to a story I thought I already finished.


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